Dark Wolf Rising (Bloodrunners) Page 21

  “He’s going to try, because he wants us to go somewhere and start a new life together. He...he says that he loves me.”

  “For your sake,” Eric muttered, “I hope it’s true.”

  “What about you and Chelsea?” she asked, stepping a little closer. “What’s going on between the two of you?”

  “It’s...complicated.”

  She almost smiled. “That sounds like my sister.”

  “Perry, I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but it’s dangerous for you in Hawkley. The best thing you—”

  “The best thing I can do is stay with Jason,” she said, cutting him off. “It’s where I belong.”

  He wanted to keep arguing, but could see that she wasn’t going to change her mind. Apparently love trumped danger, which left him in a goddamn mess. Short of throwing her over his shoulder and taking her out of there kicking and screaming, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do.

  With a frustrated sigh, he said, “If you change your mind, you can reach me on your sister’s number. Day or night.”

  “Okay. And...take care of her.”

  He didn’t know if she meant Chelsea or Sophia, and he didn’t have time to ask. He could hear Cian revving the truck’s engine, signaling him to get moving or be left behind.

  Muttering every foul word he could think of, Eric left Perry Smart standing on the bluff and ran back to the truck. He made sure that Sophia was okay in the backseat, then climbed in on the passenger’s side, and Cian drove like a demon, getting them back to the Alley in record time.

  Chelsea and the others were all waiting for them in the center of the Alley when they arrived. “What happened?” she and Jillian both asked at the same time, the second Eric climbed out of the truck. Cian grabbed Sophia from the backseat, carrying her to the Burnses’ cabin, and Eric explained as they followed after them.

  “She hasn’t been able to tell us much. Only bits and pieces. But it sounds like Brandon wasn’t being cooperative, so she got him drunk and started questioning him. The plan was working, until his roommate came home and overheard what Brandon was telling her. He tried to drag Sophia over to Roy’s, but she managed to get away. The bastard got her with a bullet as she was running.”

  As soon as they were inside, Jillian headed back to the guestroom, where Cian had taken Sophia, and Eric sat down on one of the sofas, scrubbing his hands over his face. Chelsea sat down beside him, and asked, “Did Sophia say anything about Perry?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he told her, which was technically the truth. He was the one who’d asked Sophia not to mention anything about Perry Smart until he’d figured out the best way to tell Chelsea that her sister had chosen Jason Donovan over her.

  By the time Jillian came back into the living room an hour later, it was crowded with people, everyone gathering at the cabin to find out how Sophia was doing. From Jillian’s troubled expression, they all feared the worst, since Sophia had lost a significant amount of blood. But Jillian said that she was actually doing a lot better, and had even been able to talk about what she’d learned from Brandon—and it wasn’t good.

  Looking at Eric, Jillian said, “You were right to have a bad feeling about the Whiteclaw and the Donovans. They’re not dating the humans who work at that club. They’re using them in private sex shows up in Hawkley. Clients are paying a fortune to rape the girls, sometimes up to ten males at a time. The men are all Lycan, and they’re allowed to take the girls in whichever form they choose.”

  Eric felt the color drain from his face. “Son of a bitch,” he grated, while the others muttered their own outraged curses.

  Jillian went on. “From what I understand, they have a drug that they give the girls. It acts as a high-powered aphrodisiac, making them mindless with lust, then leaves them with no memory of the event. That way, they can use the same girls over and over. They keep stripping at the club, until a client hires them out, and then they’re taken up to Hawkley. The rapes can last up to two days, and then the girls’ injuries are healed by the pack’s Spirit Walker, and they’re returned to the club with some fabricated story about a drinking binge.”

  “Those men are monsters,” Chelsea breathed out, her eyes glistening with tears.

  Eric completely agreed. He’d thought that maybe there’d be some rough play involved. Maybe even wolves getting off on the fear factor. But he hadn’t expected anything like this. They might not be feeding like rogues on those girls’ bodies, but they were feeding on their spirits, and that was just as evil. No matter what he had to do to make it happen, he was going to bring their sadistic operation down.

  Chelsea wiped her eyes, then looked at Jillian. “Do you think it’s the same drug they gave me on Saturday night?”

  There was a low sound in his throat, Eric’s fury rising as he made the same connection Chelsea just had. But there was a significant difference. “You still had a lot of your memories, Chelse. They must have given you something different.”

  “I wondered the same thing and asked Sophia,” Jillian explained. “She talked to Brandon about it, and he said the drug Curtis gave Chelsea was part of a new batch they recently had created for clients who are interested in a long-term arrangement with the girls.”

  “You mean like sex slaves?” Cian demanded in a near shout. “Those dirty motherfu—”

  “Cian!” Jillian said, cutting the Runner off. “I know you’re angry, but we need to keep it down out here for Soph, okay?”

  “Right,” he muttered, shoving both hands back through his hair as he paced the floor. “Sorry.”

  Leaning forward in his chair, Mason braced his elbows on his parted knees. “We need to come up with a way to put a stop to this. The sooner, the better. But until we do, I’m worried they might try to move the girls now that they know Brandon talked. In addition to the surveillance group that’s been set up at the club, we need something on the roads going in and out of Hawkley.”

  Brody moved away from his place by the wall. “I’m on it.”

  Cian headed out with his partner, and while the others went to the kitchen for coffee, Eric stayed on the sofa with Chelsea.

  “I’m worried about Perry,” she whispered. “I hate the thought of her being there in that town.”

  Eric squeezed her hand, letting her know he understood, but then Torrance and Carla came back into the room, and the conversation turned to Sophia and how her family was going to react when they found out she’d been hurt. As the hour grew later, the Runners started heading back to their cabins, and he finally said, “We should get going, Chelse.”

  They said their goodbyes, then made their way out into the crisp night air. Eric put his arm around her shoulders, sharing his warmth as she huddled against his side.

  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to fall asleep,” she murmured. “I’m too worried.”

  Despite the gravity of the night, a low, husky laugh rumbled in his chest.

  Tilting her head back, she gave him a disgruntled look. “You think my worrying is funny?”

  “Not at all, sweetheart. I was just thinking about how much fun it would be to wear you out.”

  “Oh. Okay,” she whispered. “I’m still game if you—”

  He didn’t give her a chance to finish, her words choking off with a gasp as Eric lifted her into his arms...and started running.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eric set Chelsea on her feet as soon as they were inside his cabin, then turned and locked the door, making sure they wouldn’t be disturbed. Her scent was all over him, all around him, making him feel like a live wire. Making him furious that it didn’t call to him. That he couldn’t sink his fangs into her tender throat and claim her for his own.

  He knew of others who had committed without being able to make a bond. It could be done. But he couldn’t risk it. Not when he was dark wolf and she was human. Only the claiming would ease his wolf completely and balance its hungers. Without it, there was too much risk of disaster.

  “Remem
ber, no biting,” she reminded him in a soft voice. “And no holding me down.”

  Lifting his hand, he pushed her hair back from her face, and said, “You can trust me, Chelse. I won’t bite. Won’t hold you down, either.” Grinning a little, he added, “Though someday you might actually like the idea of being at my mercy.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond, suddenly pulling her close and taking her mouth in a hard, relentless, ravaging kiss. And his heart damn near exploded when she wrapped her arms around his neck and started kissing him back, her tongue rubbing against his, telling him that she accepted him. That she wasn’t going to turn him away.

  As he lost himself in the warm silk of her mouth, his hands moved over her body, pulling and ripping at her clothes, needing the feel of her smooth, bare skin with a desperation that shook him to his core. Hunger clawed through his system, his blood rushing so hard and fast it was all he could hear, and with a guttural growl vibrating in the back of his throat, Eric lifted her against his chest.

  Then he carried her to his bed.

  * * *

  One moment Chelsea was lost in the dark, succulent taste of him, and in the next she found herself lying on Eric’s massive king-size bed, in the shadowed darkness of his room, while he tore away what was left of her clothes. When she was naked beneath him, he took a deep breath and pulled away, moving back to his feet. She tracked his tall, broad-shouldered form as he reached down and turned on one of the bedside lamps, casting a wash of warm, golden light through the room. For a split second she thought about reaching for the edge of the bedspread and pulling it over her, but then he pulled off his shirt, and she forgot to be embarrassed or shy.

  Then he started undoing the buttons on his jeans, and she had to prop herself up on her elbows just so she could get a better view, the flexing of muscle in his arms and across the broad expanse of his chest making her mouth water. But it was the thick ridge trapped behind the fly of his jeans that stole her breath. “My, God, Eric. You’re so beautiful.”

  “You’re the beautiful one,” he groaned, taking down his tight black boxers with his jeans, then kicking them away. Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped as she got her first look at him. With his muscular thighs braced apart, he wrapped his hand around the heavy, vein-ridged shaft, and stroked it with a few long, strong pulls that had her panting...melting. It was the most masculine, erotic sight Chelsea had ever seen.

  But what she loved most was the way he stared down at her, his glittering, molten gaze burning with heat, warming her blood until she didn’t care about being too short or curvy or pale. When Eric gave her that hot, primal look of hunger, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. One who didn’t have a single frigid bone in her body.

  She wanted to touch him...taste him. Wanted to run her mouth over the burnished, satiny skin of his chest and abs, feel the tight stretch of golden skin over powerful muscles that thrummed beneath her lips. She wanted to eat him alive. Gobble him up like something she could hold in her mouth, savoring for years. For...ever. Like something she could keep.

  “Spread your legs for me, Chelse.”

  She licked her lips, surprised by how badly she craved him. “No way, Eric. I want you in my mouth first. It’s my turn tonight.”

  “No.”

  Her eyes went wide again. “Why not? I thought guys like getting head.”

  “Liking it isn’t the point. When I think I can get through it without you killing me,” he growled, “then you’ll get a turn.”

  She couldn’t believe he’d just said that! “Hey, I’m not that bad at it.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he grated, his eyes going heavy and dark. “You could breathe on me and it’d probably stop my heart. And I’d rather not die before getting inside you.”

  “Fine. But I’ll get my turn eventually,” she grumbled. “You can’t put it off forever.”

  * * *

  Hearing the word forever on her lips made him crazed. Made him want to throw back his head and howl.

  “Just do what I said and spread your damn legs, Chelsea.” The words were rough with command, satisfaction pooling thickly through his veins when she slowly let her thighs fall open. Yeah, he could have done it for her, but he wanted this. Wanted to know that she was hungry for him. That she needed it as badly as he did.

  Crawling onto the bed, Eric braced himself on one arm as he leaned over her lower body and ran two fingers through the pink, glistening folds of her sex. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean, savoring the succulent juice as it sat on his tongue. He might not be able to figure out her scent, but her flavor called to every primitive, possessive instinct he possessed.

  “Your taste, Chelse. It’s unreal.”

  Lowering his head, he pressed his open mouth to the tender skin just beneath her navel, laving it with his tongue.

  “Stop teasing me!” she gasped, trying to pull him up with her hands on his shoulders. “I thought we were finally going to—”

  “We will,” he growled, pressing a kiss lower, to the silky curls on her mound. “But I’m still getting you ready. So shut up and let me eat.”

  “Eric,” she groaned. “You’re obsessed!”

  “You got that right. I can’t get enough of you.”

  She gave another soft, breathless gasp. “Are you always like this? Is it a wolf thing?”

  He hoped the look on his face made it clear what he thought of her questions, as if she was just another girl he liked to go down on. Yeah, he’d done it to lovers in the past, even enjoyed it. But he’d never needed it. Never ached for it so bad he thought he’d go out of his mind if he didn’t get it.

  “No, it’s not a wolf thing,” he told her, his voice raspy and low. “It’s a Chelsea thing.” He lowered his head again, licking the satiny folds, and then pushing inside, letting her feel him licking her from the inside out. Slow, deep. He licked his lips, licked her, trying to get as much of that honeyed sweetness in his mouth as he could. “You taste like you were made for me.”

  “Really?” Her back arched, that lush lower lip caught in her white teeth.

  His voice rumbled with satisfaction. “Oh, yeah.” He braced himself over her, holding his weight on one hand, while he reached down with the other and pushed two thick fingers back inside her, working them deep. “Feel like it, too.”

  “God, Eric, now. Stop torturing me!”

  Feeling just as desperate, he quickly grabbed the box of condoms from his bedside drawer, ripped open one of the foil packets and sheathed himself in the thin latex. Then he crawled back over her, caging her beneath him. “I’m not going to stop this time, Chelse. I don’t care if the damn mountain starts crumbling down around us. Flashfloods, earthquakes, hurricanes—they won’t stop me. I’m seeing this through to the end.”

  She stared up him, panting and flushed, her blue eyes dark with emotion. “I know. Just don’t...don’t hold my arms down.”

  He knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but he tensed.

  “Please,” she whispered, “don’t be insulted, Eric. I’ve given you more trust than I’ve ever given any other man. I just...I don’t like feeling trapped.”

  It was ironic, how they were both so alike in their need for control. But it was all an illusion. He could no more master his fate than she could hold her own with him if he went too far. She wanted her arms free to hold him back if he tried to bite her, but if that were what he wanted, she wouldn’t be able to stop him.

  He wanted to tell her that the day would come when she would look up at him and ask for him to hold her down. When she would want to know what it felt like to give every part of herself to him. To know that she could use him as something to break against when she needed an anchor. But he held the words inside, because that day was never going to be theirs.

  He didn’t know how long they had together, but he intended to make every damn moment of it count.

  Reaching down, Eric positioned himself at her tender entrance, his gaze loc
ked on hers as he held still. Her breath caught, a warm flush of color building beneath her skin, her eyes like a window into the very heart of her soul. He could see her need and desire, her vulnerability, her strength, her courage and her fear. He’d never thought about how significant this moment was with the women he’d known before, how intimate. Never cared, really, which just made him an ass. But then, he knew they’d never cared about him, either.

  But Chelsea...God, she was different. Yeah, she drove him crazy with her stubborn pride, but she enthralled him even more. Made him desperate, hungry, needy. Made him ache. Made him want. It was such an easy, simple word that had such huge meaning. Such force.

  “Yes or no, Chelse?”

  Her whispered yes made his pulse roar, his heart threatening to slam its way out of his chest as he started to push inside. Rocking his hips, he tried to go slow as he worked himself in, but it got away from him and he went too deep, too quickly, and she gasped. “Damn it, I’m sorry,” he growled, somehow finding the strength to hold still, though it just about killed him.

  She reached up and touched his face with her fingertips, trailing them over his hot skin, her sky-blue gaze staring deep into his mind...into those dark, dangerous places he didn’t want touching her. He tried to turn his head, but she cupped his cheek, stopping him. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I won’t break, Eric.”

  She took a deep breath, and those tight, plush muscles clamping down on him eased a little, letting him sink an inch deeper. He muttered something really dirty under his breath about how good she felt—how slick and tight and hot—and as he worked his hips, she took another inch...and then another. She was taking him, moaning, her storm-dark eyes glazed with passion, and with a deep, grinding thrust, he nearly made it all the way in. Fisting his hands in the bedding, he pulled back his hips and gave her another hard thrust that took him to the root, her throaty cry echoing in his ears as he held there, packed up tight inside her. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head from the feel of her, and he reached down with one hand and grabbed her ass, grinding up tighter against her, until not a fraction of space separated them. Then he waited, his muscles locked, skin misted with sweat, giving her the time she needed to get used to him.